


Close Quarters

by BitterKate



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Attraction, Bilbo is very good at blushing, Blood, Blood and Injury, Drinking, Flustered Bilbo Baggins, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot, Pining, Protective Thorin, Situational Humiliation, Size Difference, Thorin is very good at making Bilbo blush, warmth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-31 08:12:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12128256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BitterKate/pseuds/BitterKate
Summary: The Company stops at an Inn to get out of the rain and a good night's rest. What starts as a comfortable evening becomes something of an exercise in avoidance... with surprises along the way.





	Close Quarters

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome and enjoy!

'Thrice cursed Men and stubborn Dwarrows!' Bilbo thought angrily. 

From his shelter under a table, Bilbo contemplated his current situation and how he came to be there. 

~

The Company happened upon a small village of Men before nightfall. Through Gandalf’s insistence and Gloin’s haggling they managed to secure two small rooms for the Company along with board for the evening at a fair price. It seemed like a good idea, as they were all road-weary and wet from the seemingly constant rain of late. Having a roof over their heads would be good for them, as well as a good night’s sleep. 

Once they were settled into their rooms they meandered back downstairs where the dim but clean-enough dining area was fairly empty. It was late for an evening meal, so Bilbo ravenously ate the provided stew and bread. Some of the Company snickered, for even after weeks of travel they were still surprised by the amount of food Bilbo could pack away. 

Regardless, he was satisfied with his full belly and the warmth from the fireplace, so Bilbo ordered a drink, perfectly content to sip from the over-large tankard and sit for the rest of the evening.

With his feet dangling off the chair, he was too preoccupied to notice as the room filled with people. It was only once they were shoulder-to-shoulder, or in Bilbo’s particular case shoulder to upper-leg, that he noticed the close confines. 

Dwalin, being the tallest of their group, was at least the same height as the smallest of Men and was not pushed around so easily. But, when Dwalin stood from the table to move from one end to the other, Bilbo noticed that even he was jostled by the growing crowd. 

“Master Baggins, where do you think all of these people come from? I’m surprised, I thought there were only a few homes in this area!” 

Bilbo glanced at Ori, the source of the inquiry. One of the few of the Company that seemed to actively seek out Bilbo’s conversation, he was also one of the smallest though still half a head taller than Bilbo. Bilbo had felt an immediate friendship with Ori, they shared a love of books and history, and exchanged many stories regarding each other’s culture over the journey thus far. 

“If this tavern is anything like the Green Dragon, we might be crushed soon due to the sheer size of the occupants!” Bilbo replied.

“Pardon me, Master Baggins?” Ori shouted.

“I said—”

Bilbo was abruptly cut off by a blow to the back of the head and sputtered some of his drink onto the table. He felt himself blush and embarrassingly some tears sprang to his eyes. Turning and rubbing the back of his head he looked around for the cause of the injury. 

A particularly large, very drunk man was standing directly behind Bilbo swinging his arms wildly. Feeling indignant, Bilbo tried raising his voice. 

“Excuse me! Excuse me, Sir! If you could—”

The arm came back again, this time making contact with Bilbo’s face. Knocked slightly backwards, enough to make his chair rock, Bilbo’s hands shot up to his face to cradle his nose.

“Master Baggins!! Are you alright?”

Mortified, he quickly glanced around to see if the rest of the Company witnessed his plight. 

The Ur and Ri brothers were still eating at the table, save for Nori who appeared to be in the farthest back corner, shaking a handful of dice while surrounded by a group of Men. Gandalf was nowhere to be seen, as per usual, while Fili and Kili appeared to be chatting up some poor souls, likely getting into mischief before the night was through. Balin, Dwalin and Thorin were ensconced by the fire, nursing their drinks and chatting idly. 

Thankfully, all seemed too preoccupied with themselves to have noticed the event, save for Ori who had been a firsthand witness. Out of all the Dwarrows, Bilbo was most grateful that Thorin appeared to not have seen the incident, as then he wouldn’t have another reason to judge Bilbo an “incompetent Halfling.”

Sounding slightly stuffy and still red in the face, Bilbo replied: “I’ll be quite fine Ori, now if you would excuse me…”

Forgetting his drink, Bilbo awkwardly clambered down the side of his chair and squeezed through two pairs of legs in an embarrassed, pain-fuelled dash to their quarters for the evening. Making it past a few more people, Bilbo started to feel more and more closed in, and realized how futile and rash his escape attempt had been. Desperately looking around while still holding his nose, Bilbo tried to push past a few more bodies. However, when a woman briskly walked by, he was knocked roughly to the ground. Scrambling, now with scuffs on his knees, he noticed a table just ahead and hurried underneath. 

~

Which is how he came to be in his current predicament. 

Looking back from the direction he came, he couldn’t see any sign of the Company and was truly cut off from any unwelcome witnesses. Although not a complete success of an escape attempt, he at least now would be able to check himself over in peace without the added shame that came from disappointing Thorin once again for being defenseless. Prodding his nose gently, he caught sight of his hands, and noticed that the hit to his nose had also drawn blood. 

“Oh, Eru,” Bilbo mumbled while reaching into his pocket for his handkerchief. 

Bringing it up to his nose, he settled on the ground cross legged and took stock of his situation. 

'I will probably be able to stay here a bit longer, the room will clear out soon and give me a safe way to the stairs and then up to the rooms from there…' he thought, 'Maybe luck will turn in my favor and they will all stand still for a moment so I can slip by…'

After a time, Bilbo started watching for his moment to flee again, but none such moment came. If anything the room grew more and more crowded with Bilbo more and more resigned to potentially be trapped under the bar-room table for the night. 

The bleeding had stopped and, putting the now ruined handkerchief back into his pocket, he started giving up hope entirely of sleeping on a bed for the first time in weeks. Mourning the loss of both his bed and one of his last handkerchiefs, he suddenly noticed a familiar pair of boots to the side of the table.

Looking up higher, Bilbo met eyes with none other than Thorin Oakenshield, who was peering under the edge of the table. 

Quirking an eyebrow and scowling, Thorin reached out a hand toward Bilbo. Gulping, Bilbo hesitated – unsure of what to do, but reluctant to refuse anything given by the King Under the Mountain – he grasped the hand and was gruffly pulled from beneath the table and into Thorin’s arms. 

Shocked and crushed in a not unpleasant way, Bilbo was blushing all over again, but this time for entirely different reasons. 

Bilbo was no fool when it came to the matters of his heart, and was entirely aware of his overwhelming, if inconvenient, attraction to the Heir of Erebor. From the beginning, Bilbo had been struck dumb from all of the smouldering glares and raw intensity that poured off Thorin like molten metal. He filled a room with his presence, and was impossible to ignore. Bilbo found it both enticing and irritating to say the least, and as such tried his best to nip his interest in the bud. 

But now in such close quarters, his attraction came back full force. Blushing from head to toe, Bilbo worried it would spur on another nosebleed. Thorin had securely wrapped his arms around Bilbo, who now had his face pressed firmly into Thorin’s chest and his arms bent oddly between them. Thorin was a good head taller than Bilbo, which meant Bilbo’s feet were dangling inches from the floor. In complete shock, Bilbo could do little more than squeak.

As Thorin began to steadily shoulder his way between the tavern-goers, Bilbo became increasingly aware of the vast amount of heat Thorin seemed to give off. Blushing even more than he thought possible, Bilbo realized the reason why the dwarves all piled together at night as they slept.

'If the others were anything like Thorin, they are all living hearths,' thought Bilbo, and tucked that piece of information away for another time. 

Before he knew it, they were across the room at the base of the stairs, out of the light of the main room and into the darker side-passage. Thorin gracelessly dropped Bilbo on his feet, who felt his knees buckle and ended up falling backwards against the wall.

“For a Burglar, you seem to have a lot of trouble getting out of trouble.”

Bilbo blinked up at Thorin, surprised that he was staying longer than absolutely necessary in Bilbo’s presence, let alone talking to him. Opening and closing his mouth like a fish caught from the Brandywine, Bilbo stammered: 

“I’ll have you know, Master Thorin, I was planning to wait for right opportunity before making my way to this very corridor. If you had not assisted, I would have been here in mere moments! Now if you’ll excuse me—”

Brushing off his tarnished waistcoat, Bilbo straightened and made a start for the stairs, but was stopped when Thorin deliberately stood in his way. 

“And I’ll have YOU know, Master Baggins, that regardless of your plans, you are still a part of the Company. When you wander off by yourself without letting anyone know of your whereabouts, you put our whole operation at risk. Do I make myself clear?”

Thorin was now thoroughly back within Bilbo’s personal space, making it more than a bit difficult for him to focus on the topic at hand, and only adding to Bilbo’s frustration.

“Well!! I— I am perfectly capable of looking after myself, thank you very much, regardless of the fact that you seem to think otherwise! Good night, Master Thorin!”

Ducking lithely under Thorin’s arm, Bilbo quickly slipped up the stairs towards their rooms. Before he got more than a few steps, however, he tripped over his own feet, promptly falling forward onto the roughly-hewn wood. 

Pain flashed through Bilbo’s face once more. 

'If my nose was bleeding before, it certainly must be pouring blood now,' thought Bilbo as he curled in pain and moaned slightly, 'Maybe I’ve acquired a few splinters, too.'

Before he could register anything more than the renewed pain, Bilbo was suddenly scooped up and felt his head spin as he was carried up the stairs bridal-style to the shared rooms. 

Dropped gracelessly once more, but at least this time on a softer surface – which Bilbo discerned to be a surprisingly squishy armchair – Bilbo heard angrily murmured Khuzdul while he was busy pinching his nose and scrunching up his eyes against the pain. 

“Here.”

Bilbo slowly opened his eyes, his vision once again blurred by tears, and saw Thorin standing there holding some clean bandaging. He blinked in confusion and stared silently at Thorin, once again in shock by the events that were transpiring. 

Growling, Thorin stormed forward and pressed the cloth into Bilbo’s spare hand. Quickly turning on his heel, he stomped towards the door and, glaring at Bilbo one last time, he made his way out of the room, shutting the door with perhaps a bit more force than was absolutely necessary. 

Bringing the cloth up to his nose, he was indeed correct that he had started bleeding again, but not as wildly as before, Thank Eru. 

Tucking his feet up under himself and lying down on his side so as to not choke on any blood, Bilbo thought over the events that had transpired… 

'Had that actually happened? Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, expressed concern for my wellbeing? And then proceeded to carry me up the stairs in addition to offering me assistance multiple times in a row?'

'Unbelievable,' Bilbo thought, as he slowly drifted farther from pain and closer to sleep. 

~

The next morning, surprised to find his soiled bandages gone and a warm blanket tossed over his shoulders, Bilbo swore he could remember a large hand gently brushing his hair back from his face in the darkness.


End file.
